Juke Box Hero

[QUOTE=DeadSeraphim][COLOR=Indigo][size=1][FONT=Arial] MAYBE YOU AMERICAN TYPES SHOULD LEARN HOW TO SPELL THEN, HUH? [I]YOU'RE KIND OF THE MINORITY ON THE NO U IN COLOR FRONT[/I]. In conclusion, all Americans are incompetent illiterates.[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR][/QUOTE] Incompetant illiterates who have singlehandedly saved the world from utter disaster more than a few times. Hell, erase us and the rest of y'all won't be saying color at all, 'cause you'd be speaking German.

The whole question is not the harmful effects of drugs and or alchohol. The question has to address whether or not someone can use a substance in moderation, to be enjoyed but not enslaved to. While heroin and cocaine seem to be rather harsh masters, many people can enjoy tobacco and alchohol without losing themselves. Smoking causes cancer. Absolutely. Who cares? Not me. Everyone will die, so why spend the brief moments you have on earth crusading against something that may make it easier for someone else to get through their life. No one makes you become a smoker, although some find the craving too much to overcome by will, some also don't make it into the Navy SEALs or the Special Forces. I really begin to wonder about people who fight so hard against smoking, it seems to me that the majority of them do so for self validation, rather than true dedication to that cause. Like many homosexual advocates who appear to feel the need to validate themselves by making grand, dramatic protests about their sexual "orientations", anti-tobacco crusaders often seem to push their views upon others simply because they know they haven't to strength to smoke for pleasure. What weakness! It is simply unfathomable to me to break someone else's privilege and happiness simply because you can't follow their path. Not everyone is special, not everyone will live the same way. I can respect a man who says, "I don't smoke." or "I'm gay." or whatever, and then lives it. I cannot respect nor should I respect those who proclaim, in the style of the Evangelical Missionaries the liberals hate so much, "Smoking will kill you! Stop now! In fact, it is so bad that we will campaign to make you stop!" There's not a single smoker in the United States who doesn't know that cigarettes are harmful. Let people live their lives by their own judgments within reason. I am sickened deeply by oh so many holier-than-thou's who insist on making everyones life "perfect".

M4-A2 assault rifle... or a platoon sized element of Airborne Rangers, one of the two. All this talk about AK's... pfhh use a real infantry weapon. AK's are good for nothing but spraying bullets, which may be what you're after, but its not sexy, its not smooth, and you'd best be expert at resolving mechanical issues in the heat of combat. If not an M4 then an M16 with fixed bayonet... how sweet would that be? Hack and slash Uncle Sam style until things get sporty, then unload a little lead. Y'all can take katanas and bo staves all day long, but Miyamoto Mushashi doesn't stand a chance against my kid brother holding a firearm. Only a fool brings a knife to a gunfight. Supposing it was pretty confined combat where only two or three could attack at once, and I knew beforehand none of them possessed firearms, a good ole USMC KA-BAR would be a beautiful thing. Ahh the wonders of being covered in blood, none of which is your own. Either all that or a universe imploder... but something tells me that may have something of an effect on tomorrows coffee date with girl.

I read this, and I think to myself, [i]"Why is it that these people embrace drama?"[/i] And I realize its because they care... That just made me depressed, I'm off to smoke a pack of camel's and drink some Killians...

[QUOTE=Zidargh]Well I recieved the game on Saturday and I'm now about 7 hours in. [spoiler]I'm still in Rabanastre, have done two hunts and need to meet Balthier at the Aerodrome,[/spoiler] so I decided to leave it there. As such, and I'm not sure whether it's due to the lack of anti-aliasing for example, or me just not being able to focus very well, but it's not completely drawing me in. I mean it's fun, and by all means I love the FF series, but I was just wondering if I will begin to get sucked into it after a while. If anyone could answer that, it'd be much appreciated. Please refrain from completely bitching about it though, as I don't want to be disappointed, lol. I guess it's what you make of it. And by all means, it could just be because I was very tired this weekend.[/QUOTE] After you get past the 15 or 16 hour mark of story progression, it will grab you up like no other. Hang with it for a bit longer man.

[size=2] Ok NIK, as I've read many others saying, there is zero doubt that certain substances cause negative health effects. Some of these, as I understand, do so whether used once or constantly, such as methamphetamines or heroin. However, as you have never drank, and I'm willing to bet have never smoked, you have no perspective or understanding on the pleasures both alchohol and nicotine offer to those who can enjoy them in moderation. Little I have encountered in my life can match the pleasure of some Smithwick's Irish or Killian's Red over cigarette or cigar with the crew. It's total body pleasure, and I find it incredibly difficult to "disagree" with drinking and drugs. And it seems rather silly of you to make these bold, sweeping statements without becoming informed of the positive effects of these things when used by mature human beings. I'd advise you to gather some more worldly knowledge before making and proclaiming your world view. [/size]

[center][size=4][b][u]Mongoose Tom[/size][/b][/u][/center] [FONT=Arial Narrow] [Size=2][Color=DarkOrchid] The sleepy town of Windfall, Massachusetts, is rarely interrupted by events of any interest or significance. Windfall has no police of its own, and when the need for an officer arises, they send for one from another town. The last such need was over thirty years ago. Nestled in the northernmost part of the state, pine forests and a small mountain make up the local geography. The children of Windfall are shipped over the mountain to Portersville everyday for school, one school bus is enough for all of the children, from kindergarten to senior high. Only once in the history of the United States has Windfall ever had the nation?s attention. Some thirty years ago four mysterious strangers began to occupy old Doc Harmon?s house, high up on the mountain. Soon after they arrived, strangers began frequenting the town, and the FBI took an interest in the area. The locals were left much alone, thus they were not incredibly perturbed, but still harbored deep suspicion. On January 23rd of the fourth year the strangers made their residence in Windfall, a massive explosion rocked the peaceful New England wilderness. Soldiers, FBI Agents, men in dark suit coats, and even a U.S. Marshall flooded the town for nearly a month afterwards, claiming to be ?conducting an investigation into the death of a man of renown.? Then they were gone as quickly as they came. The man on the video screen was nothing more than a silhouette behind what looked like an Asian paper screen. His voice was slightly muffled and sing-song, though very deep. Those gathered in front of the TV were enraptured by the charisma in his voice. [i]?I am called [b]Toast Guy[/b] by my friends, and I was in the tenth grade at the time of the events in question. THE events I should say, as they were the only interesting things to ever happen in Windfall, Massachusetts. I remember, school was cancelled for nearly three weeks, as government officials shut down the roads leading to Portersville. My father was the preacher at the town?s only church, and he seemed to know something of the happenings at the time. Didn?t strike me to ask him then, but then again, I hadn?t received the message at that point.?[/i] The man on the video screen faltered for a second. The gathered strangers held their breath in curiosity, willing the video to continue. They had been summoned from across the United States by letters with First Class tickets to Boston, and cars waiting for them at the airport. Each of the strangers had no idea others were being gathered until they finally met on that house upon the mountain, the panoramic view of Windfall among the wilderness surrounding them. The house that had purportedly been destroyed in an explosion was untouched, with fresh food piled high in the pantries, and a lived-in feeling that somehow did not belong. Upon entering the Great Room, a large television was set up with a VCR on the dining table. A large sign proclaimed: ?Play Me? in handwriting made poor by use of a large Sharpie pen. [i]?We?ll get back to the message after a bit more background. You are all here for very specific reasons. Reasons you may or may not understand, but that is irrelevant. What is relevant is that Mongoose Tom left instructions that this group in front of the TV was the only group that could be do what must be done. I will be helping you, albeit from the mail for now, because the Crocodile seeks me even now. Our mission: To wake Mongoose Tom, find the Triad, and enter the Winds before the enemy.?[/i] Toast Guy continued, offering no explanation to what a Triad was, or the Winds, or even were and why Mongoose Tom must be woken. Let alone how. Several of the gathered began grumbling about such things when Toast Guy interrupted again. [i]?Before you grumble and leave, know that I do not understand either. But what I do understand is that Mongoose Tom possesses knowledge of the Triad. And though I know not what the Triad is, I know that if they fall, three pillars of humanity will vanish: Restraint, Language, and Emotion. The world will fall into endless anarchistic war if we fail. I suspect that there may be clues in the house, but I had to flee before I could properly search. I pray that Hot Wire managed to keep the Crocodile from seeking answers there as well. Good luck, and fear not, I will be in touch.?[/i] [center][b]~[/b][/center] Welcome to the adventures of Mongoose Tom! This is intended to be a serious RP with just enough humor to remind us of Dave Barry occasionally. The characters played will be the gathered strangers, I will play the NPC?s, and if we don?t have enough strangers, I?ll make one as well. [center][b]Sign-Ups:[/b][/center] [b]Name:[/b] [b]Age:[/b] [b]Sex:[/b] [b]Occupation/Profession:[/b] [b]Introduction:[/b] Give an introductory post regarding how and possibly why your character has been summoned to Windfall. Quality counts here, as does spelling and grammar. PM or IM me (i255i) with any questions or comments! [/size][/font][/color]

"Music Amidst The Mud" Lead Vocalist- Robert Plant (Led Zeppelin) Bassist- Geddy Lee (Rush) Lead Guitar- Lindsay Buckingham (Fleetwood Mac) Keyboard- Ray Manzarek (The Doors) Specialist- Mark Knopfler (Dire Straits, Solo) Drums- Keith Moon (The Who) Music Amidst the Mud brings old rock sensability, character maturity and a vast breadth of performance experience. Moon and Manzarek provide stimulating rhythm as well as the potential for explosive solos that will drive and hold up the entire machine. Geddy Lee will not sing often, well maybe sometimes, but he'll provide the bottom line required to tie the entire ensemble together. Lindsay Buckingham brings incredible guitar skill as well as decent vocals to MAtM, as well as a deep and powerful creative spark. Plant can sing, well. He's an all around Top Fiver, and he'll give Zeppelin's volatile wailing notes to MatM. Knopfler can do about everything, especially sing. So between Buckingham, Knopfler, and Plant a massive variety of vocal range and style is covered. And 'ole Geddy can sing if there are a few high notes. As far as an overall sound goes, MAtM definitely shoots for folk inspired metal. Metal in the Zeppelin sense, rather than the newer stuff. However the main point of MAtM is making music for musics sake, crafting songs with such quality and soul that they are beyond price. Beyond the marketing rackets infested with the likes of Britney Spears and Hilary Duff. Beyond MTV. MAtM isn't about crazy sales records, its about making music so well that it inspires and lasts for generations.

Get over there man and talk to her! Just because she has a boyfriend doesn't make you a nothing, who knows, she may grab you up instead of him? If not who cares, but if you don't go see her the friendship will die, and romance aside, that is very valuable stuff to be throwing away. Didn't see that you don't know where she lives.... Well that's tough. I'd say its a long shot, but you'll eventually run into her if you make an occasional pitstop at art institute hangouts.

I work two jobs from now until June, when I leave for the Airborne Infantry (and Rangers if I have anything to do with it): I shelve books at my local library, and work construction with a small operation in a nearby town. Boring work, but it pays the bills and construction is sometimes fun (like when I nearly electrocuted my boss). Basically just holdover position, because I am training very hard to make a career in the Army Special Forces... if all else fails I'll go to Penn State for something involved with Chemistry lol. My Dad was a Youth Pastor for a while White, before he became a regular Pastor. Youth Groups are great things (been in the same one since I was 13 :)), keep the torch burning man!

Fights? Ahaha, which fights haven't I been in is the question. A lot of people are talented at different sports, getting all state in this or Captain status that, and I'm ok at most sports, as I love to run jump, and all things ball. However, I've never excelled at a "sport" per se, though if personal combat were a sport, I'd be 1st team all state. Not that I'm that terrifically good at it, its just that I love it so much, that even when my opponent says "That's enough man, let's be cool!", I'm still kicking him in the head. I know no boundaries when the floodgate of rage opens, and I usually don't care at all about what I'm fighting over nor is it personal between me and my opponent, its just that the sting of battle is better than sex. Far better. The thud of flesh slamming into bone (mine or his, I love to give AND take), or the thrill of a well executed throw are enough to have me all smiles and giggles for days. I have taken Tang Soo Do for about five years now, and recently joined the US Army Infantry (AB/R). So even in terms of career/hobby I display a love of battle. It all started when I was about 8 or 9 years old, the oldest in what was then a family with 3 children and a highly abusive father. My mother had picked up the neighbor woman and her two boys (10 and 12 at the time) and we were all going to Sam's Club near Hagerstown, MD to get groceries (I lived in the little backwater "town" of Mont Alto near Waynesboro, PA then). They were rough and tumble farm boys, and I was recently of Johnstown, PA, for those of you not familiar with the area it is classic white suburbia. I never liked Brad and Donald at all, because they were loud (pot calling the kettle black :-P), boorish, and very crude. We began calling each other names, and in the backseat of my Mom's Ford Winstar, pushing and shoving began to occur, them v me. I was a bookworm with no interest in athletics up to that moment in time, but I had much rage and a ton of hereditary strength at my disposal. When Brad's fist hit my lip and I felt my blood seep onto the surface of my flesh, something clicked in the back of my mind, some door deep in my soul opened. I released the catch for my seatbelt and went nuts. I jumped over the seat separating me from the two older boys and launched a whirlwind of punches, elbows, and knees. The two mothers were engaged in heavy duty highway traffic, and could do little more than yell at us, I paid them NO heed. When it was all said and done, I had the wind knocked out of my, a huge bloody lip, two bright black eyes, and a broken pinky. I felt better in that moment than I had in my entire life, it was orgasmic and insanely pleasing. I was lucid, clear headed and totally calm, despite the new sensation of battle rage flowing through me. Brad and Donald on the other hand, both delayed our trip to the Sam's Club with stops to the Hospital. It's been over a decade now so I don't remember who had what, but between them the was a broken wrist, broken jaw, four black eyes, good sized bloody lips, and about zero air in their lungs. I expected to get in trouble the entire ride home, because my mother was furious (no legal issues here at all, this was farm country). However, she told me to wait till my father got home (a horror in its own right), and told him what happened over the phone. He brought me an ice pack, and a full meal from Sheetz MTO (Sheetz is the most amazing place in the entire world, visit PA just to go to one). That one moment was the only moment we ever had a good time together, he was proud of me, and didn't let mom get the van redone to remove the blood. My love of battle doesn't stem from a need to seek my biological father's approval, because it comes from both of my Grandfathers (one an armor Col. in the Army) and many uncles (assorted police, marines, etc.), and I have long since outgrown him and become very comfortable with my mother's second husband. Strength! Honor! Here's to Battle!

"You know the 10th Mountain Division, the one you hear so much about? That's all ********, I don't care if you're a ****ing Ranger or what, you're only as good as the guts you take to the lines..." ~ Pap Thomas "In the absence of orders, find something, and kill it." ~ Field Marshall Erwin Rommel "A piece of spaghetti or a military unit can only be led from the front end." ~ General George S. Patton "Everything is very simple in war, but the simplest thing is difficult. These difficulties accumulate and produce a friction which no man can imagine exactly who has not seen war." ~ Karl Von Clausewitz "Generally speaking, the Way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death." ~ Miyamoto Musashi "Americans love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle." ~ George S. Patton "Americans play to win at all times. I wouldn't give a hoot and hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost nor ever lose a war." ~ George S. Patton "Battle is an orgy of disorder." ~ George S. Patton "Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood." ~ George S. Patton "Better to fight for something than live for nothing." ~ George S. Patton "Courage is fear holding on a minute longer." ~ George S. Patton, "Do your damnedest in an ostentatious manner all the time." ~ George S. Patton "In a man-to-man fight, the winner is he who has one more round in his magazine." ~ Erwin Rommel "Leadership is a potent combination of strategy and character. But if you must be without one, be without the strategy." ~ Norman Schwarzkopf "I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make more sacrifices to-day than any of you to secure peace." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "If I had my choice I would kill every reporter in the world, but I am sure we would be getting reports from Hell before breakfast." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "If nominated, I will not run; if elected, I will not serve." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "War is the remedy that our enemies have chosen, and I say let us give them all they want." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "You cannot qualify war in harsher terms than I will." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "I choose the likely man in preference to the rich man; I want a man without money rather than money without a man." ~ Themistocles "Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not." ~ Xenophon "Fast is fine, but accuracy is everything." ~ Xenophon "To aim and hit, you need one eye only, and one good finger." ~ Moshe Dayan "We should demand his blood not from the Arabs of Gaza but from ourselves. Let us make our reckoning today." ~ Moshe Dayan "Only the dead see the end of war." ~ Plato "Don't tease me." ~Worm (Edward Norton), in Rounders FRIEND QUOTES: "Oh my God! It's Sgt. Doom!" ~Zach Strandquest "Sometimes I just wanna quit, and go somewhere that no one knows my name, somewhere no one cares that I love the color red, and that I only eat apple jacks." ~Gillian Thomas "I want to climb to the top of a mountain and scream at the top of my lungs!" ~Gillian Thomas "Shall we venture forth into the oblivion? Shall we play only for the love of the game? Shall we go where no man has gone before and give our lives for the sake of something no one cares about? You better believe it." ~ Adam Schropp "You know the one, the one about the albino bears and using 219 as a home for octogenarians." ~ Nathan "Grape" U. "You like that Pat? Four aces, your boat just got capsized." ~ Germ Shaulis "I once had a drink called Strong Armed Chris Returns To The Den. Weakest ****ing drink I ever had." ~ Matthew Tittle "Do what you gotta do." ~Me Excuse the profantity, we are talking quotes here.

I tried this a while back, and was saddened that it never took off. I really want this to succeed, so direct any questions to my AIM: I 2 5 5 I . Red Eagle It is 1964, the era of Credence Clearwater Revival, the free love movement, student riots, black panthers, civil rights movements, and other political unrest. These things are the things that one reads of in a history book. These are the things that one can see in retrospect. These things are a placid lake compared to what lies beneath. The Soviet Union?s covert and subversive attempts to cripple the United States have been in full swing for over twenty years. The young Central Intelligence Agency has fought powerfully against the KGB and its gulags. The attempts on Western Europe, Northern China, Alaska, Mexico, South America, and Oceania had generally been thwarted. These past years have had clear battle lines, well, as clear as spy vs. spy can be. However, the grey began to grow, and no one knew who they were fighting anymore. Survival became an agent?s prime objective, anyone: your brother, mother, uncle, best friend, waitress, barber- any of them could be Soviet plants. Nothing was safe, nothing was sacred. The KGB inspired fear into the hearts and minds of all but the greatest men, and their reign of terror seemed to be spreading like warm butter on homemade bread. In February of ?64, CIA and MI6 (British Intelligence) operatives have dropped like flies in Hong Kong, Singapore, Tokyo, and Kuala Lumpur. In fact, all of Sinic Asia has become a mine field for American/Free World sympathizers on all but the lowest levels. At first, Langley (CIA headquarters in Virginia), thought that the codes had been broken, however, after three code changes, their agents are still losing cover for seemingly no reason at all. One analyst, a young Rita Forscythe of Alexandria, VA, began to suspect that the Soviets had an inside man high up in Langley. She took her suspicions to the Director, a man merely called Caesar. He considered the meager evidence that she presented, and found some of his own. Soon after, James Ross, director of CIA operations in East Asia was murdered. It was then that Caesar knew he had a Red Eagle on his hands. Only problem was, all of his top men were squeaky clean, checked and re-checked?. Who is the Red Eagle? In March, ?64, the Russian Embassy was bombed. The detonation came from the inside, and no terrorist groups claimed responsibility. Caesar immediately launched no holds barred investigations that lead to one lead: One single piece of paper that could or could not have relevancy to this very volatile international incident. An airline ticket stub uncovered in a third rate hotel closet: Hong Kong 1 Way 1st Class. Meanwhile, Moscow was furious. Washington could not or would not do anything to appease them, and the tension grew to the breaking point. On July the 4th, 1964, a Soviet Envoy delivered the following message to Washington: Deliver the heads of those responsible for this blemish of Soviet Honor in 30 days, or we will assume it was the CIA and commence retaliatory action. Short and to the point, if the incident wasn?t resolved in a month, a Soviet/American War would begin, quite possibly annihilating human civilization as we know it. 17 days have passed, and nothing has happened. American Goals: Find the Defector Solve the mystery of the Russian bombing before the soviets become too aggravated. Retake Sinic Asia?s shadow world from the KGB. Russian Goals: Prevent the Americans from uncovering the real story about the bombed embassy. Sap the final strength from the CIA?s Asia operations. Protect the defector at all costs. British/Chinese Goals: Prevent nuclear war between the superpowers. Solve the embassy bombings before it?s too late. Defeat the KGB in Asia. Unique to British: Aide CIA Prevent Chinese takeover of the Royal Crown Colony of Hong Kong. Unique to the Chinese: Remove the gulags from Asia. Take back Hong Kong from the sniveling British upstarts. The British do not trust the Chinese, or the Chinese the British. However both see the value of peace between Moscow and Washington. A special co-operative team of agents has been dispatched to Washington (without CIA permission) to start unraveling the embassy bombing. In an unrelated mission, an elite three man team of MI6, CIA, and Japanese Intelligence Security agents has been dispatched to Hong Kong to find the defector and kill him. They must do so with great expediency, and without disturbing the precarious balance of local power, to prevent all of Asia from becoming the slaves of the Soviet Empire. Ladies and Gentlemen: This is what I need. Guidelines not rules, so play with these suggestions... also I need a Rita Forscythe. 2-3 CIA Agents. 2-3 MI6 Agents. 2-3 KGB Agents. 1 Japanese Security Agent 1 Special Service of Hong Kong Agent (HK branch of MI6, however they don?t get along.) 2 Civilians. All other characters in the story will be acted by anyone as the circumstances call for. I will be contacting someone, you won?t know who, to play the Red Eagle. The idea is that no one knows everything about what is going on, and that different players have the perspective of their characters. I need maturity here, so that it is played out well. The RP takes place over 13 action packed days. The story must be fast paced to work, but it cannot be rushed. The Soviet players will be working against the American players, the MI6/Chinese/Japanese are sort of stuck in the middle, leaning one way or the other, but generally neutral. Think like a snake on this one guys. It is rated M for a reason, I want no details held back, these are the scum of the earth in terms of morality. Realism is the name of the game. Sign Ups: Name: Realistic Sex: Male or Female, no undecideds. False Name: No one named Yuri Golstovstok will be in the USA without being heavily watched, so he might go by John Stockton or something. Realistic. Age: Minimum is 26, max is 70. Make it fit who the character is. Side: KGB CIA MI6 JSS SSHK or Civilian Biography: Story of how the character came to be where he/she is. Introductory post: Show me your stuff. I will post mine later. Remember L?s & G?s, there are Soviets around every corner, sniping from every roof top, and poisoning every drink. There is no such thing as trust, and there is always more than one Red Eagle.

We starting this thing anytime soon...? [COLOR=DarkGreen][SIZE=1]Actually, I meant it. Don't be spamming the thread, posts like this are pointless and can be asked over PM. -[B]Ezekiel[/B].[/SIZE][/COLOR]

He could see the conical stream of his breath in the light fog a top the Bank of New York building, like so many clouds of cigarette smoke corrupting the air below. Sharp vision found patterns in the descent of the Camel butt, at once enjoying the hidden subtlety and scanning the ground below for his contact. Calling the magic back from his eyes, he allowed them to close, reflecting on the cold wind battering his face from the West. [i]I miss my sweet North Wind?[/i] Rising from his crouch, the darkly garbed man rose to full stature, embracing the night as his brother. Pale hands found and lit another Camel before affixing the fast rope device to the edge of the stone behemoth. Recalling his days at the Air Assault School in Hawaii, he allowed a rare smile to form around the ember of the cigarette. [b]?Thank you, for lending thy embrace, West Wind.?[/b] Deep, guttural, and strong rose the obvious smoker?s voice, joining the chorus of the Winds high above history?s greatest city. Fitting the metal plated gloves to his hands, he allowed his thoughts to return to her, and in a sudden rage called forth the Magic and the wind met a skylight with awesome force. He remained perfectly still as the winds carried the shrapnel safely around him. [i]Control thyself, fool?[/i] Taking iron grip upon the fast rope, he allowed himself to fall into the bustling city below. He free fell until the slack of the cable expended itself, then called the Magic, forming a cushion of air, slowing to a gentle stop. He fast roped the rest of the way, leaving about thirty meters between his boots and the ground. Releasing hold of the rope, he again called the winds, falling gently to the ground. He was well pleased to see that his control had indeed returned, for the ash had not fallen from the Camel casually draped from his mouth. [b]?Are you ok, sir??[/b] Came a female voice from behind him. [b]?I?m fine, Gillian. Pleased even.?[/b] He looked at his trusted friend, and started at the sight of blood on her fair face. [b]?What happened???[/b] [b]?When you destroyed that light, a bit of metal struck me, its nothing? really.?[/b] The pain welled in him, venturing forth from a pit deep within his soul. This was the price of the magic, even when used for the best of purposes; those he loved were always hurt. This was a poignantly inconsequential example, leading his mind into the past, where the pain grew and thrived. [b]?Gill, I?m sorry, I? Here,? [/b] he wiped the blood from her face onto the back of his armored glove. [b]?Can?t have that pretty face of yours marred in blood.?[/b] She smiled at him, the innocence of her youth deepening the pain. She cupped his face in her hand, sensing the pain, but with no understanding of its depth, her heart filled only with the desire to help. She was an Empath, not a true magician, but a partial bearer of the gift [i]Or curse?[/i], and she was attuned to him. [b]?James, sir-?[/b] His voice honed into an edge, viciously interrupting, [b]?Never, ever use my name outside of the sanctum. Clear??[/b] Giggling, she threw a salute, mocking his storied career as a soldier, [b]?Yes, Master Sir.?[/b] Instantly losing his anger and tension, pain temporarily forgotten, he laughed, enjoying the presence of the only thing he loved. The girl he had found, his daughter. [i]Yes, my daughter, I?ll be damned if I?ll give her up to that home of the foolish?[/i], was the only light, the only warmth left in a cold heart, hardened by years of death, warfare, and suffering. [b]?I swear Gill, you?ll be the death of me yet. Forward march, soldier.?[/b] They began to move, taking a break from his own endless scan of the area, he looked back, pleased to see that she used her eyes the way he had taught her, searching always for a threat, Infantry style. Her eyes, however, failed to notice the two men who had almost immediately began to follow them. His did not. Turning a corner, he pulled Gillian into an alleyway, drawing his well used, much adored Glock 40 from his leather jacket. Motioning for silence, he dropped into a combat crouch, and waited for them to round the corner. [b]?Looking for us, friend??[/b] Came a male voice with a sneer he could feel, even in the dark. Almost before the words left the man?s mouth, he had the Glock pressed against the stranger?s throat. [b]?I?ll not ask twice. State your business.?[/b] [b]?You are in violation of the Oath you swore long ago. Have you forgotten? This little Empath belongs to us. We?ll have her and you can be on your way.?[/b] The other stranger spoke, the first unable to summon voice, as Gillian?s ?Sir? had sucked the wind from his lungs. Muscles tensed, his anger rose sharply, the rage cancelling out the pain he had felt only minutes before. [b]?I have fulfilled my Oath, this is your only chance to see the sun?s light tomorrow.?[/b] Gillian quivered, her own body wracked with the pain of her master, as well as pride in his care for her. [b]?Who do you think you are to speak to us like that? Our power is vested, you cannot challenge us. No one ever has!?[/b] He squeezed the trigger twice, deftly opening two fatal wounds in the first man?s throat. Slamming the back of his armored fist into the wall, blood flew from him as his voice turned to ice, [b]?You were sent against me without warning? My my, they must think highly of themselves these days. I am the Windfall, the North Wind incarnate. I am the Jeulnelune, Master of the Winds. I am your death, bear my greetings to those already fallen to my hand.?[/b] The 9mm round, launched with the added power of his magic tore through the stopgap shield thrown up by the second stranger. [b]?Gill, let us return home, these are not sights for your young eyes.?[/b] He gathered her in his powerful arms, stepping in the growing pool of blood on the street. The ash from his Camel glided slowly, coming to rest amongst the blood, like so many men pitted against the storm of time. Clarification Of Power: Can manipulate air at will, causing it to do a great many things to help him. As he's older (about 46 or 47), he's had more time to hone his gift, though he is by no means "all-powerful". He cannot affect air that has no natural movement, such as deep within a cave. There are ways around this, but it is very difficult. Also, he becomes very lethargic and dim witted when the air has no natural flow. All that is required is the most slight natural stirring of the air, and he's good to go, but stagnant air is his downfall. Anytime he uses the magic, he experiences extreme pain, as it causes those he loves to be hurt (e. g. Gillian's face, for a small example). Cannot conjure tornadoes or hurricanes, but he can encourage weather to a more severe state. In states of GREAT emotional distress, he loses the ability to control the winds, becoming reactively powerful, rather than proactively powerful.